


mais lève quand tourne le vent.

by ohhush



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Undercover, ambiguous ending, amy without jake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:44:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2212758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohhush/pseuds/ohhush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's very difficult to be you when every question is about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mais lève quand tourne le vent.

**Author's Note:**

> or, four questions they asked about him and one he asked about her.

“Are you sure about this, Amy?”

There was no joking tone behind Terry’s voice, no hint that he was just asking to be polite. He was not asking because he wanted to know, he was asking because he needed to know.

Amy got it. She did. She understood that a Sargent might want to check in on one of his detectives, just to make sure that yes, she’d be okay without her partner. She was young, Amy Santiago. Part of her registered that her age was not on her side – she was lucky enough that she’d been paired with a detective only a little older when she joined the 99, another ‘prodigy’ that was rushing his way through the ranks with good work. She’d been excited when she’d read some of his casefiles – he was better than good, he was a great detective, she was so lucky to be getting such a wonderful partner on her first assignment.

Then she met Jake Peralta – not Jacob Peralta as his casefiles read, _Jake_ Peralta. Wacky, goofy, unpredictable, mischievous. The opposite of what she’d expected. He broke every rule on the job, made jokes out of everything he could, often worked based entirely on ‘hunches’. The worst part of it all was how often he was right.

“Of course I can do this,” Amy blinked up at Sargent Jeffords as though the question was ridiculous. “I don’t need another partner. I’ll tag in and out with the others, but Peralta barely used me. I don’t see why I need another Peralta.”

“Nobody said anything about another Peralta.”

“That’s not what…not what I meant.” Amy closed her eyes, inhaled, exhaled. “Look, Peralta will be back, and I’m going to take his advice and listen to _me_ while he’s gone. Peralta’s always playing primary, it’s time for me to take my turn.”

“Okay,” Terry shrugged, and Amy could see his doubt, but she knew that Terry would always trust his detectives’ instincts. “Well…good. Yeah. Use this time to work on you. Sure.”

“Thank you, Terry.”

She was going to do it, she hadn’t been lying. Jake might have shocked her into silence with that speech of his last week, but she wasn’t going to let her mind lie down in the wake of his words. He’d be gone for the next six months, there was no immediate need for her to think of him. What was it he told her? Stop caring so much about what other people thought? Yes. She could do that. For the next six months, Amy was going to work on Amy. Yes. No more Peralta getting in the way of everything, a chance to be her and only her. She still didn’t know what she was going to do with that, but she wasn’t going to think about it, about him, until this was all over.

* * *

 She never said anything to Teddy. Why would she? He’s so kind, so sweet, and her life with Teddy is almost completely separate to her work life.

Of course, it was a conscious decision to separate her work life from her personal life. It had been fine, before. He’d come to pick her up at the precinct a couple of times since Jake left, and both times he’d sat directly opposite her as he waited for her to finish up, right where Peralta used to sit and rib her endlessly. She couldn’t explain it, but it made something in her chest feel a little tight, and when she looked over at Teddy, sat at Jake’s empty desk, she began to notice flaws she hadn’t seen before, flaws that had never bothered her. After the third time she’d caught him at Jake’s desk, she just asked him outright if he would stop visiting her at the precinct. She told him he was distracting her, and it was partly true.

He took it well. Of course he did. It was Teddy. Kind, obedient, well-behaved, an adult. He worked hard. He saved his money. He had a beautiful apartment in a nice neighbourhood, but not so ostentatious that she felt uncomfortable. They watched the same movies, listened to the same music. He complimented her taste, loved her dolls and her doilies and even liked her cooking. And he was kind. She thought it every time she sees him, he’s _so_ kind.

It’s his kindness that was the problem.

“How’s Peralta doing?” Teddy asked one night, popping a peanut into his mouth.

“Peralta?” Amy stuttered, blinking widely.

It was the first time Teddy’s mentioned Jake since he went undercover. Amy never needed to mention it, everybody knew what happened to Jake, what he’d said to Padalski and the others. She knew that people gossiped, talked about how Peralta had so much talent, so much potential, how he could have been one of the greats. A nervous breakdown was what was speculated, maybe symptomatic of something deeper – his methods had never been conventional, after all, and Boone had not been quiet about Jake’s past. Amy knew there were rumours, but Teddy had the good grace to never comment on them.

“Yeah, how’s Jake?” Teddy continued to chomp on the dry roast. “What’s he doing with himself?”

“I…I don’t know. Why would I know?”

“Well, honey, you were his partner. I know he was a bit…kooky for your tastes, but he was a good person and a great detective. I thought you’d be checking in on him, seeing how he was doing.”

“I don’t understand why I’d have to do something like that.” Amy’s throat felt tight, like a band was constricting around her neck. “Peralta is an adult. He can make his own mistakes.”

“I don’t know what happened, honey, and it’s not my place, but he’s clearly going through something and I just thought he’d appreciate a friend. I don’t know if he’s the kind of person who would do something if you needed a friend, but I…I don’t know. I thought you were the kind of person who’d like to be there for a friend.”

“Why?” Amy could feel her eyes flash red. “Why the _fuck_ should I babysit anybody, least of all Peralta?”

“Amy.” Teddy finally stopped eating the stupid peanuts, directly facing Amy. “What’s this about? I just asked about a friend.”

Amy was glad they were in her apartment, surrounded by all the dolls and figurines she’d spent a lifetime collecting. She was glad nobody was seeing the scene she was making, seeing the tears that were about to spill.

“I need you,” Amy tried her hardest to level her breathing, “to stop, Teddy.”

“Stop what?” Poor Teddy, there was no way she could convey just what she wanted to say. “What am I doing?”

“Stop being so nice!” Amy all but screamed.

“Nice?”

“Nice! You’re nice, Teddy, nice! But guess what? Sometimes I’m not nice. I can be a bitch sometimes. I can. And I’m allowed to be a bitch. And I don’t need you looking down at me for being a bitch, because I am human, I am not perfect, not like you.”

“I’m not perfect, Amy.” And Amy’s heart broke.

She liked Teddy. She liked him a lot. She liked perfection, and sometimes she managed to convince herself that she was perfect, that her life was perfect. But her life was chaos, and she was beginning to realise that maybe she liked it that way. She grew up surrounded by chaos, seven older brothers that didn’t always behave how they should, and her work life was chaos…even if Peralta was the root cause of that chaos, she was beginning to miss it.

“It’s just…to me, you’re perfect. And I just…where I am in life, I don’t think that I’m looking for perfect.”

“I’m confused, Amy. I’m so confused. What are you saying?”

Amy could feel the tears prick at her eyes when she stood, walking to the front door. All she wanted to do was watch the Criminal Minds marathon with her boyfriend, to eat snack food and see who could solve the crimes first – her, Teddy or the FBI profilers. She didn’t want to think about those niggling thoughts that had been irritating her for the last few months, or admit that she was less than perfect, and she definitely didn’t want to talk about Jake.

“I think…we need to take a minute, Teddy,” Amy spoke carefully, deliberately, trying to ignore the tears dribbling down her cheeks. “I like you. I like you so much. But…I don’t know if I can be your girlfriend right now.”

“What did I do?”

“It’s not…not what you did. It’s what we didn’t do. Us. Both of us.”

They gazed at each other for a few moments, Teddy crying a little and Amy on the verge of silent hysterics. She couldn’t believe it had come down to this; dumping the perfect man because he’d asked about her childish ex-partner. She’d always believed that safe and mild was best, but now that she was staring down this man, this perfect man who wasn’t even putting up a fight, she realized that maybe perfect wasn’t even something to aspire to.

“I think you should leave, Teddy.”

* * *

 She didn’t mean to slam the door in Gina’s face. She panicked. Amy liked to think of herself as cool, in control, but there was no other word for it. She panicked. Gina was at her door, yelling everything that she was so scared to hear.

“You’re in denial, Amy Santiago!” Gina was still screeching from behind the door. “I don’t know what the shit you did to Jake, but I want him back!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Amy practically hiccupped back, voice muffled by the door that lay between them.

“You do! I don’t know what you know, but you _know_! What is happening? What’s happening to Jake?!”

Amy didn’t even know what to say to that, so she just stood there, focusing on her breathing, trying not to cry.

“Look, Amy, I know Jake is dumb, and he’s loud, and he’s careless, and that’s why Padalski fired him…but he’s not stupid. So I don’t know…I don’t understand why he’s doing this, and why you aren’t doing anything to _stop_ him!”

“Peralta’s an adult, Gina,” Amy squeezed out a tear. “I can’t police everybody.”

“But it’s Jake!” Gina sounded on the verge of tears now, and it made Amy want to sob. “It’s Jake! He’s been broke since the day his Dad left and he would still never do anything like this!”

There was silence on both ends, and Amy was sure she would drown in it. Every word that was leaving Gina’s mouth cut deeper and deeper, and maybe they were hurting more because she could not see her, but there was no way that Amy was opening that door to see Gina – Gina! – acting with such emotion and veracity.

“I don’t know what happened between you, but he loved you, Amy. He loved you, but he…he’s Jake, and he doesn’t do emotions. And I don’t know if you did something or he did something or…what happened, but someone needs to fix it, and he’s not talking to me, so I…he’ll listen to you, Amy. Talk to him. Please.”

Amy held her breath for a while after Gina stopped talking. She didn’t know how she’d reply to Gina if she wanted to, but she knew that if she opened her mouth, she’d start crying and wouldn’t be able to stop.

So Amy sat there, back to the door, waiting for Gina to leave. The silence was both deafening and exhausting all at once. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there for, just holding her breath and counting backwards from 300 in prime numbers to try to calm herself, but she woke up at 7AM the next morning slumped against the front door.

* * *

 “Did you hear what happened last night?”

It was a Wednesday morning, and Amy had just returned from an early morning bust down at the docks. She was quietly satisfied, confident that they’d be able to put away all the drugs they’d hauled in and put the collars away for quite a while, and confident that Captain Holt would nod in approval once she submitted the paperwork. Her arrest rate had plateaued badly after Jake left; she hadn’t realized how badly she’d relied on him, even just as somebody to bounce ideas off, but after five months she was beginning to see an increase in her numbers, even if it didn’t quite feel the same.

“No,” Amy sipped on her milky coffee. “What happened last night?”

“I told you about the dealers I’ve been trailing with the 73 down in Brownsville, right?” Rosa grinned.

“I don’t know what you think is so funny about this,” Gina all but growled in their direction, and Amy’s heart sank a little. Gina had barely spoken to her since the day at her apartment, and only one thing could make her speak any kind of sense.

“…yes?” Amy swallowed.

“Oh, it was great,” Rosa tried to contain her grin, “and we’re doing well with the dealers, don’t worry, but when we were scouting, we came across a few guys soliciting. Real Italian, tough guys, you know? So we had a word, they started resisting, and we _had_ to take them in at that point. And you know who was the ringleader, throwing insults and trying to _head-butt_ Detective Landowski?”

“…no.” Amy put down her coffee, staring at her coworker. “No.”

“Oh, yes!” Rosa cackled. “Oh, you should have seen him. Ridiculous _velour_ tracksuit and pompadour, hilarious. So pathetic in those handcuffs, oh my God. And the things he was yelling, like he’s some kind of big guy…”

“He called you a puta, Rosa,” Gina slammed the book she was pretending to read. “A _puta_. I read the report. He called you a puta and said you should be deported and you _let him_.”

“His Spanish was pretty good, I was surprised,” Rosa mused.

“What the hell?!” Gina yelled. “I don’t know what I expected from Santiago, like she’d look out for anybody but herself, but you’re one of Jake’s only friends he’s kept from the Academy. You’re supposed to try to talk him down when he pulls shit like this!”

“Listen to me, Gina,” Rosa stood, her long legs making their way to Gina’s desk as she stared at her from her dark eyes. “Peralta is 33 years old. He’s an adult. I don’t need to babysit him or tell him what to do.”

“He’s 34,” Gina growled.

Gina was right. Jake’s birthday was June 9th, a full four months ago, two weeks into his assignment. She remembered last year’s birthday, his 33rd, and how they’d spent it together, investigating a series of sex store robberies. He hadn’t mentioned anything, and the only reason Amy knew was because Gina had surprised him with a cake when they’d returned to the precinct. He’d been mortified, but Amy could swear it was a bashful blush rather than an embarrassed blush.

She wondered what his birthday had been like this year. He always said he didn’t care about ‘stupid holidays’, birthdays included, but everybody has hopes for their birthday behind it all. She wondered where he was living, where he woke up the morning of June 9th. Did he tell anybody it was his birthday? Did his Mom try to ring him, did she try to visit him? Who did he spend the day with? Did he think of Gina, of his Dad, of her?

“I need to…” Amy stood up too quickly, covering her mouth. “I’m going to be sick…”

She ran to the bathroom, where she vomited up the hot milky coffee that had seemed so delicious when she had picked it up. Everything tasted sour now.

* * *

 It was times like this – 4AM, coming off a double shift that ran later than she’d anticipated – that Amy Santiago regretted setting her ringtone to ‘You Oughta Know’. She’d felt so strong when she listened to that song, like Teddy and even Jake meant nothing to her. She remembered belting it in her bedroom after she caught her 9th grade boyfriend holding hands with Kerrie Donavan, and it was still a song that felt so cathartic to her, but at 4AM, she kind of hated Alanis Morisette.

“Hello?” Amy picked up the phone, voice scratchy.

“Amy Santiago!” the voice on the other end all but giggled. “Amy Santiago!”

“Jake?” Amy sat up, very much awake. “Is that you, Jake?”

“Yeah, it’s me, it’s…” He sounded strange, a little strained and frantic, giggly but with fear and nerves lying behind it, and something else – alcohol, maybe? “What are you doing, Santiago? Can you talk?”

“You shouldn’t be ringing me, Jake,” Amy choked out. “You can’t…you’re not supposed to do this.”

“Quick hypothetical,” Jake continued, ignoring Amy. “What if…what if I did something really stupid, like reaaaaaaally stupid? Would…”

“What did you do, Jake?” Amy interrupted Jake with a gasp.

“I…it’s nothing…” Jake was doing it again, brushing off any opportunity to express emotion or admit fault, but Amy could hear it in his voice. A gasping, his breath hitching on certain words.

“Do I need to call an ambulance, Jake?”

“They’re coming, I called my supervisors…I just…I wanted to say I’m sorry for what I did, I shouldn’t have said that, and I hope you haven’t thought of me.” It was getting more and more difficult to hear Peralta’s words, but Amy was wide awake now, breath stuck in her throat once more. “Because you’re too good to give a damn what I think, or what anybody thinks.”

“But I have, I have been thinking of you, I…Jake?”

There was a quiet smashing sound, and the breathing was gone from the other line, replaced by a dial tone. He was gone. Amy had no idea what happened, but for one beautiful hour, she did not think of Jake. She lay on her side, curled in the foetal position, and switched on her old TV-VCR she’d taken from her childhood bedroom. She pushed play on the remote, and struggled to suppress a giggle when the image of a 13 year old Amy Santiago filled the screen, stood on a stage in a middle school gym in what she remembered as her very first pantsuit.

She remembered exactly how she felt in that moment, empowered and ready to take on the world. She had worked hard in all her classes that year, kept up with her track and softball, volunteered for all that she could. She’d watched tape after tape of Hillary Rodham Clinton, modelled her pantsuit off her post-Superbowl 60 Minutes speech. She remembered how hopeful she was, how sure that – whatever she grew up to be – she would be the very best. And she remembered just how much she had _loved_ Robert Zhao – the same Robert Zhao she’d caught holding hands with Kerrie Donavan. She remembered not caring that he was a bit better at science than her, or that he butchered the Spanish language every time he tried to speak it, and she didn’t even care that he sometimes got detentions for sleeping in class. She did her, he did him, and they were both happy. When had she lost that ability to live in herself? Why had she never listened to Jake when he told her to ignore what others said and thought?

Her phone beeped next to her; one new message from Captain Holt:

“It would be much appreciated if you could meet me at Kingsbrook Jewish Medical Center as soon as you can. Contact me if you have further queries. Thank you, Captain Raymond Holt.”

Amy smiled a little, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, surprised at the salty streak left behind. Something Jake said had got through to her. She was calm and in control of herself, no matter what happened. She could do this.

**Author's Note:**

> written while listening to 'occident' by joanna newsom.
> 
> 'I'll wait for you,  
> alongside the ocean,  
> and make do  
> with my no-skin.  
> But then, Long-life,  
> will you let me in?  
> And then, Slow-heart,  
> are you gonna know him?  
> Long-life, speak your name.  
> I wait, while I decry the wait.  
> And when I die, may I relate:  
> Slow heart, congregate.'
> 
> title is from 'lève les voiles' by cœur de pirate and translates as 'but rise when the wind changes' or, in the context of the song, 'set sail when the wind changes'.
> 
> written in one sitting between 6ish PM and 4ish AM.
> 
> jake's birthday is in december in my other fic but since he is a canon gemini, i decided to make his birthday june 9th, a birthday he can share with my very favourite jake, who knows his tv alter ego as 'beralta'.
> 
> this isn't going to happen in a million years, but it's an angsty version, i guess. still very excited for the the new season. i think it's realistic(ish) for gina to react like this - she's being kept in the dark about one of her oldest friends. (i'm still guessing they'll find a way to keep that much as light as gina gets.) 
> 
> thank you!


End file.
